Long Tussling Poems
Long Tussling Poems. Below are the most popular long Tussling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tussling poems by poem length and keyword.
Most mornings I can be found in my backyard,
checking milkweed leaves I protectively guard.
I collect them to nourish and nurture til the day
butterflies emerge, dry their wings, and fly away.
I smile at the sight of dewdrops on green leaves
that sates great thirst for which all flora grieves.
Above mountain crests, clouds are aureate gold,
reflections of sunlight, as I watch morning unfold.
The dawning of a new day is Nature's sworn duty.
She takes her work seriously, resulting in beauty
evident to anyone who enjoys songbirds trilling
or who find sunrise pastel-colored skies thrilling.
I inhale the scent of the ocean's crisp salty air,
and revel in the breeze tussling through my hair.
In moments when I walk along a sandy beach,
Nature exposes herself as if within my reach.
I find solace on walks. I'm in nature's tranquil grace.
At peace with myself when I accept her embrace.
Humbled when standing beneath a forest's canopy
and all I contemplate is writing a poetic rhapsody.
I appreciate nature much more when I'm by myself,
never disturbing its harmony, as I move with stealth.
I listen to leaves rustling, walking in drizzling showers,
never tire of seeing bees sip pollen from wildflowers.
I hold just as dear, the time between day and night
when the sun slips into the horizon, hour of twilight.
That's when cicada call and lightning bugs take wing.
Gifts from nature's hand would make the Muses sing.
Elongated dazzling radiance cast abeam
sensational blinding brilliance
thru eyelids cast agleam
buoyed upon soundcloud airstream
entire corporeal complex edifice
rocked upon gently
shimmering weightless as moon beam
metaphorically floats yours truly
autonomic kickstarting process
since... flagellation enabled conception
circulating, distributing, enervating...
dna chromosomal genetic
data packets craft
lifeforce fueled bloodstream
aforementioned haploid gamete
kinetic, microcosmic, and opportunistic
unbridled, likened, and fashioned bream
identity guarding, glorifying,
edifying dynamic counterstream
crème de la crème
deoxyribonucleic electric kool aid
acid time tested testicular cream
erecting scalar, singular, stellar
survival of fittest
legendary, mandatory, and noteworthy
twenty three and me crossbeam
cast adrift amidst
one after another
continuous pleasant daydream
wafting mysteriously current
squarely bobbing (think sponge)
idyllically, harmoniously, haphazardly
and gently flowing downstream
nimbly manifesting lusciously
kneading jubilantly inescapable
heavenly glorifying dream
begetting coruscating prismatic halo
quintessentially orbiting eyebeam
orchestrating laser inducted fleam
painlessly piercing poetic pulsating gleam
analogous to virtual reality occurring
currently within whirled wide
webbed dammed headstream.
Meanwhile along Battle Creek boughs
tooting, trumpeting tussling,
nonetheless resolute triumphant hornbeam
built barque remains intact amidst every inseam.
Lumbering ship of state seaworthy
in league with moost any other galleon
forging full steam ahead
lake any other mainstream
weathering riveting pond during microbeam.
Precursives In A Minor
My dear, you are dead now, and
It follows that the dead cannot speak,
But please dear woman,
Utter however softly,
Your ghostly peep,
For we are your survivors,
Following soon,
As the buoy bell continues to toll,
Way out there in the dark bay.
My dearest one, you,
Now sunken and cold,
In your pearl-inlaid casket,
Your cozy bed of now,
Have found your final pillow.
Well I remember another pillow,
The one I gently rested your head upon,
That damp effusive evening,
When we, unfurled and tussling,
Inside our shadowy room of pillows,
Found a new kind of death.
You said ‘Darling, light my cigarette,’
And I, with cuff links blazing,
Stroked your polished fingers with desire,
And said ‘Of course dear,’
And then you covered yourself
With my rusty chapeau.
‘Is that the buoy bell tolling again?
I can hear it through your breathing, and
Your relentless penetrations.’
No, there is nothing there, except
My dangling tongue,
Reaching in like a bear for the throat.
And yet, my dear,
You never turn away,
You always keep your long silent gaze,
When this dripping candle here,
Slowly fades, as it must.
I
This teetotaler turns to tea
torquing temptation
towards tippling
thankfully, though
that tremendous tugging
teasing tendency thirst trumped,
thru teaching this totally tubular
toothless titular Texan thuggish tyrant
(titled Tsar Terry Troutman)
transcendental theology
tenets taught transferring
torpedoing, taming threatening
titanic tsunami tempest
tastefully tickling temperance
testing trying taut tenacity
together teaming (troika)
triumvirate torchbearers
transsexual therapist
(Tony the tiger)
tough trailblazer theoretician
toady treacly Tory
(Tommy Two Tone),
thence thirdly Theodore
"Tornado" Tornetta)
themselves trained to tamp
twerking tremens triggers,
their tripartite treatment told
tattooing thorny transforming
took this then truant teenage turtle
through time traveling
to those truant tumultuous tragic,
toxic, tipsy twitchy, touchy, tetchy
typhoon terrible two times two
times two times two tantrum
throwing, thieving, threatening
taxing textured teen tinder times -
tossing, tilting, taking tankful tolled
throaty, thoroughly,
thickly telltale temblor
toured terrible tournament
testing taupe tumbling termagant (Thaddeus)
tangling (Tangoing) tiny Timothy,
the treacherous tarantula
tying tussling travail – tata!
“I am feeling it.” He said.
He meant his age, and as I watched
I saw a vision of him…
Ribs broke away
from the cuttlefish bone of his breast
opening outward in a rueful grin.
I saw his heart stuttering over a word.
I watched his lungs tussling
with a bladder of vapor.
I saw a horseman on a creaking steed
raise its hoary head
and point an ancient ladle
at a long-winded windmill.
“Stir my belly lad,” it said.
“spoon out my sump,
dole globs of lymph from here to there.
My oil is vapid, my hip-bones hang
like tree tusks over a wilting groin.
Each ear is a pot
for mulch and millipedes”.
The specter fades.
He smiles, rubs his thin hair.
“I also see it sometimes’” he says,
“this liver-spotted ghost
that chains me
to you.”
Non-Existence and its elementary properties as I move about freely as you can plainly see
Matter is a tangible entity: meaning that it can be physically handled making it manageable -OR- an entity that can be felt, visually, to sensibility, to the advent of emotional is established once again, mayhaps not visibly, but emphasis sways in harmonic agreement ... EMOTIONAL INVOLVEMENT
No ... Non,
are both definitive factors of negativity
undertones
The use of simple reverse psychology
synergies
So we venture the realm
of possibilities
I am a former me
I am a nonentity
A human being
No longer seen
I can be anything
I am an entity
Not a void nor empty
Unless I choose to be
Imagine a world I d where you do not exist.
I am reduced to a you
I am here to amuse
me, myself, whate'er
I am that I am
But for trice I am now
Simply a pronoun
A person I don't belong
It's based on a premise
That I had existence
I can be a tree
Or a leaf on it
Or bee tussling
About or sitting
On a rock or the rock
Tumbling down stream
Just how it'd felt for the many
Unlike me who never
Was another entity
Let alone tossed
Rocky stream like of
Those I can see whose
Numbers are to great
To count but whate'er
I want to be a part
of a rock in a stream.
I think tomorrow
I'll be a bird
I soar high up
And dive into the sea
And swim like a fishy me
Marvel novel this
Non entity
To be anything
And everything almost...
Omniscient being.
We rise with ebb tide and flow.
Into the darkness of the night sky.
On the way, sincere nocturnal glow.
Look for sound, breeze, and flux tie.
Tussling to stay buoyant to get a cosmic way.
Once we perceive the level, it'll no long clave.
We halted prior to pursuing our pathway.
Reaching the top of every incoming wave.
Dark ocean spotted with the ritzy shore.
With its own peculiar set of needs and goals.
Like a boat was departing the harbor.
Vex me lost and later alone with my tolls.
On this endless night, a timeless dream.
Looking for a port and the earliest beam.
Written: July 14, 2022
I didn’t see Alhaji Sule, the big contractor
Though he is a sponsor with a huge stake in government.
I didn’t see Chief Ade the financial banker
Though he is well-versed on political palavers.
I didn’t see Mazi Eze the business mogul
He’s engrossed in his profits of sales and remains apolitical.
I didn’t see Sir Osahon the civil servant
I wonder, but guess he knows he’ll always have his pay.
I’ve hardly seen his Excellency, not any of his children
But I can see all his servants and some of his relatives.
I see market women, okada riders, menial labourers
Poor farmers, job seekers and beggars, superintend by
Ad-hoc staffs, police, army, party agents, observers
Thugs, cultists, pickpockets and party chiefs, all…
All under the biting sun from sunrise to sunset.
From the tussling crowd I hear and see unending
Wails of distress, curses, cracking of limbs and crimson
Muffled by fugacious shouts of political victories
When from behind the curtain five dollars less swaps for a vote.
Stale politicians and their eating party chiefs preside over
The poverty, ignorance and despair of the masses who shall
Again be left in the cyclic vortexes of socio-economic woes.
In the coming years, they’ll, in public, keep licking their wounds
While the politicians, in private, will have and eat their cakes!
Remember fondly the days of sun
as the seasons invertably change.
The hours of daylight shorten as
each passes and nights are long.
Autumn reluctantly releases her hold.
The lands cool and start to freeze,
whilst with a roar winter marches in
claiming and coating all in white.
Remember with pleasure those sultry
days sipping a fine wine as you
basted in hot rays turning brown
only now to shiver as cold bites.
winter's grip settles in deeper
as icicles adorn the trees glittering,
shining in the weak sunshine like gems.
Boughs on trees dip and some crack off.
Remember swimming in the sea or
rolling in the sun warmed sand.
Tussling with your sibling
forgetting the freezing cold to come.
Ah! Winter both loved and hated,
feared by those who are ill prepared.
Life hanging in the balance for some
but most will survive to see spring.
Remember, for remembering renews us
bringing back days of yore that
on reflection seem so magical
remember too, time recklessly spent.
That can never be recovered, much though
you wish otherwise, it is gone, done, buried.
Remember winter will end with a whimper
and the sun become all powerful yet again.
I remember the joy of
the weekends, no school
No home work, feeling good
I have memories of my family
Sitting around the table
On a Friday, eating fried fish
and grits or fried bologna
After my grandma went
Fishng and caught a
Mess of fish for dinner
Or when my grandparents
Had to much to drink an
Ended up rolling around
On the floor, tussling
I can laugh about it now
Or the time we were at
A cookout, my grand-dad
Was watching the barbecue
Chicken on the grill so, hard
He felled, face first in the dirt
The man who was grilling said,
There's plenty of chicken left
Or the time my Sister cooked
Her very first turkey an
It wasn't done on the inside
She cried
Those are the fun memories
I'll never forget